Equations in Real Life
by Maryam25
Summary: This takes place about six weeks after the season 2 finale and everyone is still picking up the pieces. Harvey no longer has Mike and his relationship with Donna is...compilcated at best. I hope it's a decent read. Enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own Suits nor am I claiming any ownership...alas

Author's Note: I started writing this about two months ago and finally finished it to my liking. I don't know if I'll be able to continue it, for now this is all I have. Enjoy.

**Equations in Real Life**

"_Donna, wait…"_

_She feels his fingers wrap around her elbow, his touch burning her skin._

"_Harvey, don't do this." She sounds like a broken record. She's exhausted–physically, mentally, emotionally._

_He loosens his grip; lets go of her altogether, knowing he has her. She won't walk away. She immediately misses the warmth of his skin and her eyes go to his face, searching. He can't possibly be ready for this, she thinks. Neither one of them is–_

The phone rings and she is brought back into the present, all thoughts of past happenings and non-happenings left behind. She answers the call, voice smooth and unaffected, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Harvey's not in his office, he will be back shortly. She explains this to the person on the other end. She notes down the message and disconnects the line.

Thankful for the twenty minutes or so that she'll have to herself before he gets back from court, she dives back into the pile of paperwork that has been decorating her desktop since early this morning. And then she thinks that she's spoken too soon because she hears the clicking of _Scottie's_ ridiculously expensive designer heels. She doesn't need to look up from what she's doing to know. She just knows. The steps being taken are small. And light. And only the bright red soles of Louboutins, as Donna knows firsthand, make a sound like that each time they come in contact with the floor of the law firm's hallways. But she detects something else in each step–something new, something that wasn't there before–a bounce.

Donna takes a quick breath and puts on a smile, the most genuine one that she can muster and she looks up into the face of the dragon.

"Dana, what can I do for you? Harvey isn't in yet." She is proud of herself for delivering this with a straight face, her voice unwavering, not once breaking eye contact.

Scottie taps her well-manicured index finger against the edge of the cubicle's partition, her look contemplating. There is a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"That's fine; I'm just leaving this on his desk". She's not asking for permission. She holds up a small white envelope with _his_ name on it.

Donna nods her head and gestures towards the door, albeit unnecessarily.

Gone are the days when Scottie asked her opinion, what she thought of this or that. The lawyer can sense that something is off between Harvey and his assistant. To the untrained eye it may seem as though it's nothing, but Scottie feels the tension. She's polite when interacting with Donna, but always keeps their exchanges short, never speaking about anything outside of the office.

She doesn't watch as the lawyer goes around to the other side of Harvey's desk and places the envelope on top of a file folder and then makes her way to leave. She walks out of Harvey's office and Donna watches her retreating figure, the sound of the Louboutins haunting her.

Scottie and Mike seem to cross paths as the associate makes his way to Donna's desk. Mike tries to avoid the brunette's gaze and politely inclines his head as he continues to walk to his destination. The vision of the first year associate is a welcome sight, though a surprising one. Donna is not shy to admit that she misses him, skinny tie and all. As he draws near, she sees that he comes bearing gifts.

"One fat-free latte with skim milk and _extra_ whipped cream." He extends the cup towards her and smiles like the huge kid that he is, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes Donna notices sadly.

"Come on, it's Friday; you'll have the entire weekend to do your yoga thing," he adds when he sees the inkling of hesitation in her eyes.

She accepts his offering graciously and gives him a smile, a real smile. And this makes Mike proud, because he knows Donna doesn't give those smiles away freely. He hasn't felt this good about himself in…in…too damn long.

"Thanks kiddo," she says, watching him closely. The look in his eyes–of hope, anticipation, worry, forces her to look away, silently answering his unvoiced question. He drops his head and nods.

"It's been six weeks, Donna."

Silence.

"It's been 1008 hours since he's said a _single_ word to me."

Mike remembers the last exchange between himself and Harvey; the senior partner's final words haunt him daily–hourly.

His voice is resigned. He rubs a tired hand over his eyes, hoping to wake up from this nightmare that is the reality of the situation.

Donna's chest tightens; she finds it a little harder to breathe.

_He's been counting too._

"I don't know what to say Mike; he's not letting me in either." Her voice is low and the first year thinks she sounds defeated.

"We're...it's complicated and now..."

She's never at a loss for words and yet now the words escape her, leaving her unable to explain it to Mike, who is just as broken as she is–just as broken as Harvey is. They've broken each other and no one knows how to put the pieces back together.

He nods in understanding. He needs no further explanation. He knows that things between his former boss and this beautiful redhead are strained; she's lost her glow. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder and she feels a light squeeze.

"I'm sorry. For _everything_." His voice is barely audible, just a whisper.

He stands still for another minute and then removes his hand. "I better get back to work."

He doesn't wait for a reply; he simply walks away, his hands sliding into his trouser pockets, his posture a little straighter.

Mike walks down the corridor, making his way to the elevators of the fiftieth floor. He feels out of place amongst the new faces, a stranger in a foreign land. The only reason he took the risk in coming up to see a friendly face was because he had heard through the grapevine that Harvey was still in court and wouldn't be in his office.

He taps his foot nervously, willing the elevators to move faster so that he can rush back to the safety of his cubicle. His cubicle doesn't protect him from the other associates' comments about him no longer being Harvey's golden boy, but it is a familiarity he doesn't want to lose; that he can't afford to lose.

He hears the elevator door chime as it prepares to open. And of course, when it does, Mike comes face to face with the one person on whom he hasn't laid eyes in weeks, the one person he has been avoiding at _all _costs.

Harvey.

Once their gazes meet, the associate finds it very difficult to look away from the senior partner's face. Mike thinks that he seems to have aged about five years. His expression is grim and the lines at the corners of his eyes are more pronounced. He looks worn down and it's a look that Mike thinks should never be associated with Harvey Specter. Gone is the arrogance of the city's best closer and all that is left is a shell of his former self. The guilt hits him again, but now, as he is looking directly at Harvey, it's multiplied. He drops his head and tastes something bitter at the back of his throat and his eyes follow Harvey's shoes.

Harvey walks out of the elevator, past Mike and starts to make his way down the hall.

Mike almost misses the elevator. He manages to slip in before the door shuts completely; he's never been happier that it's empty. He has to grab onto the railing because his head starts to spin.

So much for _that_ plan.

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Harvey makes his way over to Donna. She wordlessly hands him his messages and as he turns away she adds, "Jessica wants to see you in her office."

He stops mid-stride and turns back to face her.

"Tell her I'm busy for the next hour."

She doesn't look up from the screen. She doesn't trust herself to meet his gaze, doesn't trust her eyes not to give anything away.

"Jessica wants to see you in her office," she repeats. What she doesn't say, but is implied, is this: Jessica wants to see you, no ifs ands or buts.

"The Henders–," he starts, but stops when his eyes land on the untouched latte sitting on her desk.

She picks up the file closest to her and slides it over to him, tapping on it with her index finger.

"It's all in there. Louis dropped it off this morning."

Harvey looks at the file but he's thinking about the cup on her desk; the one that wasn't there when he left. He _knows_ Donna hasn't gone for a coffee run because there would be a cup waiting on his desk too**. **

She waits to hear his retreating footsteps, but he doesn't move.

"He came to see you."

It's not a question.

It's not a statement either.

She thinks she hears disbelief in his voice, bewilderment, even.

"Last I checked _I _hadn't banished Mike from coming to see me." She makes sure that their eyes meet. She is upset, no–angry.

Silences passes between them.

Then she adds, "Wait a minute; that was _you_."

Her words sting. He tries to look unaffected.

"I don't have time for this."

He doesn't have time for a lot of things lately. He picks up the file and makes his way to Jessica's office, leaving one battlefieldand walking straight into another.  
Ever since their showdown, Harvey tries to deal with Jessica in person as little as possible. When they do exchange words, the questions are curt and the responses even shorter. Quite frankly, it's suffocating. They don't quote Top Gun anymore. They don't quote The Untouchables anymore. She usually tells him to do something, it's _never_ a question and Harvey obliges because _that_ was the deal. Because Harvey is a man of his word.

Harvey doesn't like change. It's not that he can't adapt to changing circumstances. He just doesn't like doing it. The firm is his home.

And ever since this merger everything has changed. Everything. He doesn't have an associate, his workload has tripled, he hates where he is with Donna and it no longer feels like his firm. Harvey know that this wasn't just Jessica's doing. But, Rome wasn't built in a day. At least he knows he can count on Louis' support. He probably would have laughed at this prospect two months ago, but today it gives him some measure of comfort to know that Louis is on his side.

He walks into Jessica's office, not waiting to be asked in. She is on the phone, finishing up a conversation.

He gives her thirty seconds before he places the file on her desk and explains, "We closed the Henderson merger, Louis added a few notes. It's all in there."

He nods his head in the direction of the folder.

He doesn't give her an opportunity to speak.

"That'll be all?"

A look crosses her face, but it disappears just as quickly. She doesn't say anything. She assents with a nod, her lips pressed together in a straight line.

He turns and makes his way to the door, when her voice stops him.

"Oh and Harvey, good job."

He knows it's a probably the beginnings of a peace offering, but it's also the truth because he was spectacular in court today and the Henderson merger taught Harvey that he was better than even _he_ had thought himself to be. But this meant that he wasn't sleeping and that he was tired, exhausted and on edge, most of the time.

Those words won't fix it, this–them. So he just walks out because if he were to open his mouth, for once in his life, Harvey doesn't know what would come out.

He makes his way back to his office and as he rounds the corner; he throws a quick glance in the direction of Donna's cubicle. She isn't there. Harvey knows that Donna has an incredibly resilient bladder and this is his only chance. He quickly passes her desk and makes his way into his office and sits at his.  
That's when he sees the envelope. And the familiar, almost illegible print.

And then he remembers Scottie; the other variable in the complicated equation that is his life.

Harvey can't remember the last time he solved an equation.


End file.
